MATILDA: diary of a cleaner
by sdhalfacre
Summary: Matilda: approximately ten years after the flick
1. Beginnings

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MATILDA: diary of a cleaner

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By: _Scott D. Halfacre_

Copyright 2000

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The character of Matilda appeared in the movie THE PROFESSIONAL. She was a child and played by Natalie Portman. I have taken her into the future and made her what she wanted to be. Forget La Femme Nikita… Matilda is the true cleaner.

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PROLOGUE

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There was a time when I thought life was a great joke.

A huge effing mistake made by someone.

Life had seemed to lose its meaning long ago.

That was then.

This is now.

Life has become something new to me, full of twists and turns and new experiences. My past has helped me be prepared for a lot of things, but this job was not one of them.

I'm a cleaner.

For those of you that don't know, that means I kill people for a living.

The greatest guy I have ever known trained me.

Leon.

My name is Matilda and I met Leon back when I was very young. He showed me a lot and I have been training ever since his death. I'm now 23 years old and have my first assignment.

That's right, I'm a virgin.

I haven't killed anyone… yet.

I have shot corpses and stuff to get the feeling of having to shoot another human, but my new mentor tells me it's not the same. He says once I have done it, there is no turning back. He's held me back till now. 

Now I have my assignment.

The only problem is he doesn't know that I have been given my first assignment.

I only know my mentor by one name, John.

He has long dark hair, and it's graying at the temples. John also has one of those small goatees that is just under the lip and nowhere else. I have no idea what he calls it. I call it dumb. He wears nice clothes and smokes a lot. John's over six feet and fairly thin, but don't let that fool you. He's strong as an ox.

I on the other hand have grown very little since my time with Leon. Although I do have a better sense of style now.

I'm five foot three inches and weigh a hundred and five pounds. I have the dark hair I had back then, only this time I keep it much longer than I used to, it's down to the middle of my back; no bangs. I'm not very strong when compared to John, or many other guys for that matter, but I am fast as hell and have trained in the martial arts for a good ten years.

As for how I am with a weapon? 

A gun and I are like one; I'm the deadliest bitch you'll ever meet when it comes to shooting. Although as John says, I haven't killed anyone yet. So I guess my guts remain to be seen… well… tonight they will be seen.

I should get ready now, time is running short.

Thanks for listening, I'll tell you all about my target and my life later.

__

Matilda

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	2. Learning to stand on your own two feet

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MATILDA: diary of a cleaner

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By: _Scott D. Halfacre_

Copyright 2000

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The character of Matilda appeared in the movie THE PROFESSIONAL. She was a child and played by Natalie Portman. I have taken her into the future and made her what she wanted to be. Forget La Femme Nikita… Matilda is the true cleaner.

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Entry One

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Ever been kicked in the chest by a mule?

Me either, but I imagine it's gotta feel like this.

I've just been shot.

First time in my life. I guess what they say about "first time for everything" is true, huh?

Well, John just shot me. No, not like that. He made sure my vest was on and secure before he did it, but then he did it.

John shot me.

"Get up Matilda!" His voice is like nails on a chalkboard when he screams at me.

"It hurts!" I can feel a tear in my right eye and try my damnedest to fight it back.

"You want to clean, yes?"

My lower lip sticks out involuntarily at times like this, I can't believe how many times I must answer this question.

"Yes."

"Then quit your sniveling and stand on your own two feet." John flicks his cigarette at me.

I stand.

Not because I want to, I just hate being looked down at; and he was doing so. I like to carry my own weight; it's something inside me that won't let me fail. 

I like it; it's helped me plenty in my life.

John smiles as he takes out another cigarette. "Good."

I can't help but pull the vest out a bit and look at my chest where he shot me; it's a swelling red spot now. 

As I look up, John has the gun out.

"No Joh--"

Damn that effing mule.

This time I don't wait for him to tell me to get up, it's a reflex.

"Very good." John tosses the weapon on the table.

He didn't use his own gun, John prefers a .45. He bought the .22 for "training" he said. I didn't know by that he meant to shoot me with it.

I don't bother to move the vest this time. I just want to make sure he doesn't go for that gun again.

Effing mule.

"Here," John tosses a twenty on the table next to the gun, "Go get me something to eat."

He said "me," not "us." That should tell me this isn't a "normal" relationship. I guess at some things I'm still a slow learner. Without a word I remove the vest and grab what he left and head for the door.

"No pickles this time!" Damn chalkboard. "And take the--"

"I already have." I say as I close the door.

No matter how hard I want to slam it, I just close it.

John wanted me to take the gun, the .22, but I already swiped it. I have it tucked into my jeans just above my rear. It makes less of a lump there on me.

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The training ground he takes me on is full of the seedy type. They all stare at me when I'm in the place, I guess I just don't look like someone should come here.

Once a guy even called me a narc. Scared the place shitless.

John made the place understand that I wasn't a narc though.

He shot the guy.

Took out his gun, said, "She's no Narc," and tucked it in his gut and fired. Tossed a fifty on Teddy's counter and said, "Get him some medical attention."

Teddy is our contact while we're here in Detroit. Nice guy, black, shaved head, a "real" goatee, well over six feet, and well well over 350. His arms are bigger than my waist… easy.

"Where ya headed Matty?" Teddy's voice is so soft and low, he should be a singer.

"John needs some food." I smile as I pass and toss him a wave; he's on the phone.

"Hold up, you need someone to go with you in this neighborhood." Teddy sets down the phone and starts to get out of his chair.

"I have someone." I wink at him and pat the slight bulge above my rear.

"You think I would have noticed that lump in your pants." Teddy laughs and goes back to his conversation on the phone.

I use my back to open the door as Teddy hits the buzzer to let me out. "You were to busy thinking of the lump in your own pants Teddy!"

He's laughing as I back out into the street.

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The cool air of the night makes my chest hurt.

Effing mule.

Guess I should be glad he only used a .22 and not his gun.

The street outside "The Hubbub," Teddy's place, is on a small side street in downtown Detroit. But you wouldn't guess that by seeing how many people are roaming this street.

But the cops know all about this area.

In fact I can tell the guy standing on the corner is a cop. He's made to look like a wino, but the problem isn't in his acting, nor the clothes you can see. His pants are falling down slightly and I can see the underwear he's wearing.

NO bum wears Tommy Hilfiger shorts.

"Evening officer." I say as I pass him without slowing down.

He keeps up the charade though. "Got any spare change?"

I learned while growing up on the streets not to slow down, no eye contact, don't speak, and just keep walking.

So I do.

I tuck my hands into the pockets of my Jean jacket and am walking towards John's favorite place to eat. 

Subway.

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"And no pickles." I brush some stray hairs from my face as I tell the kid behind the counter.

He might be older than I, but I still think of him as a kid. He probably still lives at home with mom and dad and has a new car and all that jazz. I've never known that life, only dreamed of it.

"Pickles?" Josh--according to his nametag--asks while making the sandwich.

Just cause he's cute, there's no reason I should assume he has a brain. 

"No," I put a lot of emphasis on that word. "No pickles."

"Anything else?" Josh looks at me with his not so perfect eyes. They would be perfect, but he wears contacts. As far as looks though? They are the prettiest eyes I've seen in quite a while.

I smile sheepishly. "No."

"Right." Josh lets the word hang there for a moment, just enough till it starts to get a little uncomfortable. "You're new here aren't you?"

I can't believe he hasn't noticed me before, been coming here for the past two weeks. "No, been here before."

"I meant Detroit." Josh smiles.

"Can I have the sandwich?"

"After you pay for it you can." Josh's smile grows.

I dig in my pocket and feel the .22.

"Don't sweat it," Josh hands me the sandwich. "On me."

"Uhmmm, thanks." I stare at the sandwich for a sec then grab it.

"Busy tonight?" Josh takes my hand as I grab the bag, and I swear he's holding onto a live electrical cord.

"N-No." I smile uncontrollably.  


"I get off at twelve." Josh tells me.

"Bet you say that to all the girls." I back out of subway much like I did The Hubbub. "Keep in touch." I wink as I turn to leave.

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Walking back to The Hubbub, I spot the "wino."

He's on the fire escape.

Second floor.

Near our place, John's and mine.

I run up and before I can knock, the door buzzes.

"Where you headed in such a hurry girl?" Teddy actually is out of the chair faster than I thought he could move.

I don't answer, just run up the stairs.

The door to the apartment is open, and John is sitting in the middle of the floor.

Bleeding.

The .22 is in my hands before I know it, and I try to drag John out of the line of fire from the window.

"Matilda!" John's chalkboard voice is on full display.

I look down and the bleeding has slowed, it isn't as bad as I feared. He also isn't holding his .45 anymore, which means the threat is over.

I walk towards the window and can make out John's four shots. Two by two, he double taps his gun when he fires.

The dead cop is hanging in our window.

"Get him in here," John says standing under his own power.

I grab the "wino."

Great.

Just what we need.

A dead cop.

__

Matilda

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	3. Shit Happens

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MATILDA: diary of a cleaner

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By: _Scott D. Halfacre_

Copyright 2000

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The character of Matilda appeared in the movie **THE PROFESSIONAL**. She was a child and played by Natalie Portman. I have taken her into the future and made her what she wanted to be. Forget La Femme Nikita… Matilda is the true cleaner.

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Entry Two

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Teddy enters the room, just as I'm pulling the carcass of a cop through the window and John is now standing under his own power.

"Jesus H. Christ." Teddy mutters under his ragged breath, it was only a flight of stairs but he's not exactly in shape either.

The body hits the floor with an audible thump and I can see blood leaking onto the terrazzo floor.

"John, what the fuck is going on?" Teddy lays the gun he brought in here on the coffee table and sets John into the couch.

"The bloke shot me, what the bloody hell does it look like?"

"It looks like I have yet another dead body to dispose of thanks to you." Teddy tells him in between puffs of air.

"Matilda will get rid of it." John's voice is raspy and low.

"Me?!" I'm shocked to say the least.

I've never had to deal with a dead body, least of all the dead body of a cop.

"Matty doesn't need to do it. I can call Geoff again." Teddy stands and walks toward the cop and me.

"Geoff practically cost me my job last time Ted." John's chalkboard voice has lost a couple of the nails sliding down it. 

"He was doing his job--" Teddy gets his words cut off by John.

"No." John says with a wave of his left hand. "Matilda will handle it."

I know I don't have a say in this. "I don't suppose I have a say in--"

John interrupts me too. "Follow Teddy, get some plastic, the keys to his car, and hydrochloric acid."

I knew I wouldn't get a say in this.

"C'mon Matty," Teddy rubs my head, "Let's get you what you need."

Teddy is heading out the door and John is walking toward the sub lying on the floor by the front door.

Shit, I guess I dropped it when I came in.

"Buy me another while you're out Matilda." John gives me a hard look.

I hide what's in my hand - I don't think John saw me - and tuck the .22 in my jeans and follow Teddy out.

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"You gotta find another line of work kid." Teddy hands me his car keys.

"I'm a cleaner." My lower lip pushes its way out again.

"In more ways than one Matty," Teddy smirks at me, "More ways than one."

The keys he gave me have three keys on the key ring, but that isn't what has me disgusted; it's the ring itself. The key ring is a naked woman with abnormal looking breasts - meaning big ass fake tits - and wings and a halo; it's from some strip club near here. On the back of the naked figure is the words "Heavenly Honey's."

I think I'm going to be ill.

"It's all I had to put them on?" Teddy tries to say it, but it comes out more like a question. He's trying to see if I'll buy that explanation.

"No sale." I wink at Teddy and am out the back door headed to Teddy's car.

A black Chevy Blazer, about five years old; not that you could tell by looking at it. Teddy has kept it in great condition.

Teddy helped me load the body into the bag and then into the back of the truck; also four canisters of the acid are back there too and the gas mask I'll need to deal with this stuff.

Ick. 

I can't wait till I'm an official cleaner and don't have to go through with crap like this.

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"No pickles?" Josh says to me.

"Leave them on."

Serves John right for sending me out for another. There was nothing wrong with the last one, I just dropped the bag. It was still wrapped and everything, he just likes to show his authority for some reason.

"Hungry today?" Josh does that smile of his.

"Not if you've been doing what I've been doing." I wipe some sweat from my brow.

"Hard day always makes me hungry." 

Give me an effing break. The kid is working at a Subway, and I just had to dispose of a body of a cop with acid. You tell me who's having a "hard day."

"Four thirty." Josh tells me.

So much for the free food, I guess I should have taken him up on that offer for tonight.

I pull out the wallet I lifted from the cop's body and open it to pay Josh.

I hid the fact that I stole the wallet, John would tell me how unprofessional it was to keep it. Like someone would ever--

"You a cop?" Josh smirks looking at the wallet.

Fuck.

__

Matilda


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